West Side Story
by Carolyn Rose
Summary: Slytherin and Gryffindor are at odds. Secretly, a Final Duel, one to end all, is planned between the the two houses. The risks are high--their lives. So what happens when one student from each house falls in love with the other?
1. Prologue, Act I Scene I

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any related thematic elements by JK Rowling. I also do not own West Side Story- conception by Jerome Robbins, book by Arthur Laurents, music by Leonard Bernstein, and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim.

West Side Story

PROLOGUE  
  
In the eyes of a professor, the lives of the Slytherins were simple. They would study, play quidditch, socialize amongst each other, and maybe cause the occasional ruffle with a Gryffindor. In fact, it was nearly comical to them how little effort these students seemed to put into the quality of their lives—how they never showed any interest in things. They wondered how they could stand never taking the time to try and bridge the never-ending divide that separated them from the Gryffindors.  
  
But the professors were terribly, horribly wrong.  
  
In the eyes of the Slytherins, nothing was simple. There was a constant struggle of hierarchy in which every one of them would always strive to be the top of. It was unending. And their riff with the Gryffindors? Not a game, it was serious.  
  
At the current top of the Slytherin pecking order stood Blaise Zabini, a clever and witty beauty. Her placement had not come easily however; it was something she'd had to work at. Despite her good looks, it had seemed that nobody would have ever been able to conquer the most wealthy boy in school—Draco Malfoy. Yet she had put her mind to the task, and steadily climbed the ladder.  
  
Blaise had even gone as far as to date Draco. They had easily been the most enviable couple in the school for a while, both with good looks, blood, and family backgrounds. That was until the famous Harry Potter, Wonder Boy, had been snatched by elegant Lavender Brown, and this had all happened in the first two whirlwind months of their sixth year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
But during these two months, Blaise had also noticed that something about Draco Malfoy had changed. His cutting edge had been dulled significantly, probably due to the fact that his father had been locked up in the Wizarding prison, Azkaban. His father had been the key to his pride. He'd taught him everything he knew from how to walk to how to direct a stinging comment at somebody just where it would hurt the most. But now, he had been more reserved, choosing to not participate in the normal everyday arguments with the Gryffindors. He almost looked defeated at times.  
  
And so Blaise had dumped him. It wasn't that she didn't like him anymore, but she was a true Slytherin. If he was going to start going all soft because of his father, then it was for the best. After all, she had already achieved high status among their crowd, and they would still remain friends.  
  
ACT I SCENE I  
  
It was a bright Friday afternoon, and Blaise was sitting down at her usual Potions table, surrounded by a few Slytherin cronies. It was about fifteen minutes before class was to start, and they had the entire classroom to themselves. They liked being able to discuss the days happenings and their intense dislike for whatever the Gryffindors had done or said during it.  
  
At the moment, they were engaged in a particularly heated discussion about the over eccentric-ness of Harry Potter, when Professor Snape finally ambled in. Malcolm Baddock had been standing up doing a silly impression, while the others were howling with laughter.  
  
"Knock it off," Professor Snape said sternly, eyeing the students menacingly before depositing his bag on his desk and then scrambling into his ingredients laboratory.  
  
"Charmed," said Blaise, mockingly saluting him while his back was turned.  
  
Snape poked his greasy head back out of the lab. "Your immature rivalry with the Gryffindors is getting old, even if I can agree with you on some of your points. Don't make me have to take off points, now," he barked, and looked at them as if they were bats out of hell. He then walked out of the lab with a large vial of a ghastly green fluid, and a house elf. This house elf was hired by Professor Snape to keep watch over the potions ingredients, for it had been becoming a regular occurrence that a student would sneak in and take something, despite all his previous efforts.  
  
The house elf spoke up. "Me is thinking that the Slytherins should put up with them Gryffindors, like I have to. Or I'll pour the burning zest potion down your backs while you's is sleeping!" he shouted emotionally in a high voice, shaking tiny fists.  
  
The Slytherins all stifled their laughs, for it was obvious that Snape had hand picked the elf to agree with and enforce everything he said. Typical.  
  
Snape nudged the elf's back with his knee, forcing him forward towards the door. "Keep out of trouble," he said curtly to the students, "I need a word with professor sprout, urgent business." With that he strode out of the room, elf scurrying in front of him.  
  
Blaise turned back to her friends, arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow, and said "Well...they'd make a nice couple, eh?" Her comment was received by renewed howls of laughter. "Keep out of trouble," she imitated Snape in a sour nagging voice.  
  
"Knock it off," added Pansy, also mocking him.  
  
"Clean that up right now!"  
  
"Stay out of my office!"  
  
"Don't you dare say that to me!"  
  
"Shut up about the bloody Gryffindors!"  
  
"Oh, isn't my hair just so wonderfully soft and volumized?" jeered Blaise lastly, and they were all too overcome by laughs and giggles to carry on.  
  
"Hey, Terence, what's that on your arm?" Pansy asked. "Is that a boil?"  
  
"Aww, no, it's nothing," Terence said, jerking his sleeve down over his arm.  
  
"It is a boil!" interjected Blaise. "The Gryffindors got you again, didn't they?" It was nearly a daily occurrence now that they would pick on at least one of the Slytherins while they weren't looking.  
  
"I'm a casual, Blaise," he said laughing.  
  
"Yeah, that makes you a Gryffindor harlot! Ha!" shouted Adrian Pucey.  
  
"Shut it, Adrian. Which one of them did it?" Blaise asked.  
  
"Weasley," he said. "I heard him talking about getting us back for stink- beetling their common room." He imitated the gesture that Ron had made towards him.  
  
"Jesus Christ," said Goyle.  
  
"That's nothing," Malcolm interjected. "They're the reason Snape, our only good professor, acts like he's got a wand shoved up his rear all the time!"  
  
"Who says?" Blaise jeered.  
  
"Come on, it's obvious," he said.  
  
"Snape would act like that any day, Malcolm. It's not just the Gryffindors," Blaise said, although in no way was she defending the Gryffindors, she only hated Snape with a passion. It seemed to her that he was not only biased and enjoyed picking favorites, but he was also sexist, and treated her just like a Gryffindor. She despised that.  
  
"Yeah, Blaise," said Goyle. "My father says that those dirty half-breed Gryffindors are ruining the entire school. They drive Snape mad! And what're we doing about it?"  
  
Narcissa Zabini, the younger sister of Blaise, decided to pipe up at that moment. "We're bugging out! All we do is complain! Come on, we've gotta—"  
  
"What're you still doing here?" Malcolm interrupted. Narcissa was only a fourth year, and most of the Slytherins tended to shun her. It had been her biggest hope to be part of the popular group, but she could never seem to make it. She wasn't like her sister Blaise, tall, slender, and beautiful, but she was more boyish, desperate to get involved in every fight and bicker.  
  
"Did you see what I did last night to that Patil whore? I hexed her green! Come on, Blaise, I was ruddy brilliant!"  
  
"Shove it, Narcissa," Blaise threatened.  
  
"But..." she persisted. "I was awesome! How about you let me get in the crew, really, I—"  
  
Terence spoke up. "How about the crew getting in..?" he mocked, making a rude gesture. The Slytherins began to snigger with mirth. "Nah, who'd want to?"  
  
"You snarky bastard!" Narcissa yelled, and pulled out her wand, enraged. She got out of her chair and lunged towards Terence, ready to curse him. Blaise instantly got up after her, and ran over to her side, holding her back.  
  
"Leave, or I'll owl Mum. Again," Blaise hissed in her ear.  
  
Narcissa scowled, and stomped away towards the front of the classroom, far away from the rest of the group. She made sure, however, to pretend to bite her thumb viciously in an attempt to scoff them. The Slytherins only laughed.  
  
Blaise, smoothing out her short skirt, returned back to her seat and sat down, daintily crossing her legs. "Listen, guys," she said. "Goyle was right, I guess. The Gryffindors are taking the school and making us look like fools! Before we know it, they'll be running it, I'm sure!"  
  
"Dirt," said Terence with dark satisfaction. "Half of them are mudbloods, too."  
  
"Exactly," said Blaise. "So what do we do about it? Are we just going to let them ruin everything we've got?"  
  
"Hell, no!" Malcolm yelled.  
  
"We're going to get rid of them, guys," said Blaise vehemently.  
  
"Like...a duel?" asked Malcolm.  
  
"Yes. A duel. My father taught me this...hex, and it'll be sure to get them. It's called primordium, and it looks like just a simple freezing spell, but it's not."  
  
"What do you mean? How long does it last?"  
  
"Forever."  
  
"But think about it. Most of the Gryffindors are trolls, but some of them are brainy. One of them'll come up with a way to get us, too. What if they want to use unforgivables?" Malcolm was always thinking ahead.  
  
"Unforgivables?" Goyle said, looking frightened and letting his pansy side show for a second.  
  
"I'm only saying maybe...it was just a thought. Not definitely," said Malcolm.  
  
"So what do you think?" Blaise demanded.  
  
"Brilliant," said Terence.  
  
"But if they want to use the unforgivables?" Goyle asked.  
  
"Then forget it," said Malcolm. "We'll have to think of something else."  
  
"What do you think, Blaise?" Crabbe asked.  
  
"Hogwarts is probably one of the only places where we stand tall, and I'm not going to lose it," said Blaise passionately. "If they want to use unforgivables, hey, I'll learn the unforgivables. We're going to win."  
  
Terence began to clap jokingly. "Beautiful speech, darling," he said, wiping an imaginary tear from his cheek.  
  
Blaise shot him a look, telling him to be serious. "We duel," she said. "But we're civilized, us Slytherins. The same...I wouldn't say for the Gryffindors. Nevertheless, we need to have some sort of date, a...pre-duel conference to...you know, decide."  
  
"Decide what...?" Crabbe asked.  
  
Blaise looked annoyed. "Decide on rules! We need to know what we're going to forbid, like whether or not we'll allow unforgivables. I'll tell the Weasel, he'll never be able to back down. Also, we need somebody to be in charge, to help plan things."  
  
"That'll be me," Malcolm said.  
  
"No, nitwit," said Blaise, "That'll be Draco." Despite the fact that he had been letting most of the Slytherins down lately, Blaise still held a lot of respect for him. He was good when he was in charge.  
  
"Are you kidding me? Malfoy practically isn't a Slytherin anymore! Just look at him...he's losing it!" Malcolm yelled.  
  
"Shut up, Malcolm. Draco and I are the best in the house, and you can't deny it, can you? And we don't only need everyone we can get; we need the best we can get. Give it time, guys."  
  
"I haven't even talked to him in over a month," said Goyle. "He acts like he doesn't give half a hippogriff's ass about us."  
  
"And what about that day when he told Potter off when he spilled his ink? Potter almost turned green. Was he a disgrace to the Slytherins then?" Blaise asked.  
  
The rest of them shook their heads.  
  
"Whatever," said Malcolm.  
  
"Draco is a Slytherin, and once you're a Slytherin, you're always a Slytherin. He'll always have us, no matter what," Blaise said.  
  
"Damn, Blaise, you're all sentimental today, huh?"  
  
Blaise kicked Terence under the table with her pointed shoes. Hard.  
  
"Ouch!" he mumbled. "Sorry."  
  
"Question," interrupted Crabbe. "When and where are you going to talk to Weasley? He's usually not within a yard of us unless his fist is there first."  
  
"You," Blaise declared, "are an idiot. At the dance in the Great Hall tonight! Where have you been?"  
  
"But the Great Hall is supposed to be a 'Wizarding Common Ground,' remember? We can't start a fight there!"  
  
"Did I say I was going to start a fight?" Blaise said, answering his inquiry with another question.  
  
"Er...no," Crabbe said stupidly.  
  
"So all of you'd better be there tonight," said Blaise. "Look your best."  
  
"We'll meet you while you negotiate?"  
  
"Exactly. And don't make fools of yourselves," she said, eyeing Crabbe and Goyle specifically. They slumped in their chairs.  
  
"We never make fools of ourselves," said Terence. "We're Slytherins!"  
  
"The real wizards," said Malcolm.  
  
"And witches, moron," said Blaise.  
  
"Right. Witches."

**......................................................**

A/N: So...twidles thumbs...perhaps you've noticed that Blaise is, in fact, a girl in my story. That is a mistake on my part, but since I wrote the entire story before we all found out that Blaise is, in fact, a _boy_ in the books, I couldn't go back and change it. Oh dear, please forgive me.


	2. Act I, Scenes II and III

West Side Story

ACT 1 SCENE II  
  
Back in the Slytherin Common room sat Draco Malfoy, directly in front of the fire, the warm light tickling his face as he worked on a lengthy potions essay. It was near the end of the day—classes were over, although dinner had not yet been served and neither had the dance been started.  
  
Blaise entered the room and walked silently over to him, twirling a piece of her jet black hair around a perfectly manicured finger.  
  
"Coming tonight?" she asked him.  
  
"No," he said simply, not looking up.  
  
"Why not?" Blaise asked angrily. It bothered her that he had been so quiet the past month. "You're freaking me out lately, you know."  
  
"Well then don't talk to me. Problem solved."  
  
"DRACO!" Blaise shouted. "You arrogant twit, tell me what's wrong with you!" She stood up to stand in front of him, blocking the light from his face. He looked up at her, annoyed.  
  
"I don't think so Blaise," he said. "Go bother Potter, I'm busy, and you're blocking the light."  
  
Blaise shook her head. "Draco Malfoy. Tell me RIGHT NOW what the hell is wrong with you," she shrieked, throwing her hands in the air.  
  
"You don't want to know," he said.  
  
"To hell I don't! Tell me!"  
  
Draco sighed deeply. "Fine," he said sharply, in a voice that made Blaise almost regret making him talk. "Ever since my father had been locked up in that bloody prison, I've been having this...dream. I'm always reaching out, like I'm some sort of idiot. I've written the manor to find out what the hell is going on..."  
  
"Reaching out? For what?" Blaise demanded, feeling weird about his story. Draco Malfoy was having... "dreams"? Dear Lord, alert the media.  
  
"You think I would know?" he said quickly. "It's so close, I can almost get to it, but I can't. It's going to drive me mad. It's not even that important, but it's getting...well...annoying."  
  
"Why do you want to get it? Ignore it," Blaise offered.  
  
"I can't, that's the thing. It's like...getting a Gryffindor. You know it's pointless, but you can't resist..."  
  
"You don't do that anymore."  
  
"I do," Draco said hotly.  
  
"You can't resist because they're people, Draco. But you've boxed yourself up lately...it's weird."  
  
"It's not irresistible being a Slytherin if that's what you mean. Believe me."  
  
"Whatever," said Blaise. "What I came here for though wasn't to talk about that. I need to ask you a favor."  
  
Draco leaned back in his chair, and turned his essay over.  
  
"We need you for a duel--an all out one, no returns. It'll be huge...but not without you. You're one of the best the Slytherins have got. Be in charge of it. With me."  
  
"Blaise, no. I've had it with all these stupid elaborate schemes to get at the Gryffindors, why can't you see that they're not even worth it?"  
  
"We can't sit back and watch them pick us out, one by one, and ruin our school and lives! Come on, they fight hard, and we've got to too. Do it for me," Blaise said, the last part softly. She was very good at getting what she wanted. "And besides, I already told everyone you'd come to the dance tonight. We're going to propose to the Gryffindors," she added smiling seductively.  
  
Draco sighed and put away his paper, scowling. "Fine."  
  
Blaise laughed, and let herself drop into the tall-backed armchair Draco had been sitting in. She was sitting in his lap, and this made him roll his eyes. "Oh, I love you," she joked, toying with the power she felt like she had over everyone else in the school. Draco frowned.  
  
"If I end up regretting this," he hissed, "you'll be the one to deal with it."  
  
"I'll see you at nine!" she chirped, ignoring him, and strode out of the room once again.  
  
Draco was finally alone. Alone, angry, and annoyed: the three A's that were never a good combination when applied to a Malfoy.  
  
So he had let Blaise talk him into going to the dance. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to go, or that he was strictly against it, he had actually been rather indifferent. The only reason that he had made such a deal out of the matter was probably because it had been Blaise, once again, trying to get him to do something for her. She was tricky that way.  
  
"Damn it," he whispered to nobody.  
  
Maybe, he began to think, the dreams had something in connection with the dance. Maybe what he was looking for would be there. Was he looking to be a part of the Slytherin's highest crowd? No, he was still fairly near the top. He wanted to shout at the dreams, to tell them to either get the fuck away from him, or to stop teasing him, taunting him with the prospect of something...something new, good, exciting...something coming.  
  
ACT I SCENE III  
  
Lavender Brown and Hermione Granger, two intelligent Gryffindors, stood in their sixth year dormitory. In the air was the buzzing with the frenzied excitement of the upcoming dance, and the two girls fussed over a short plain dress laid out on one of the school beds.  
  
"It looks...boring," observed Lavender. The dress was a simple pale yellow, wide-strapped and down to just above the knees.  
  
Hermione was not a fashion bug, but was able to agree. "Definitely," she said. "Maybe we could magic the neck down a bit..."  
  
"Brilliant!" shouted Lavender. "Brilliant, let's just...ah...er...wait. Hermione. What about Harry?" she asked. Lavender had currently been dating Harry, although only after Hermione had broken up with him the first week of school. They had gotten together over the summer.  
  
"What about him?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Wouldn't it make him...I don't know...uncomfortable? Besides, he told me that you looked better in plain clothes. Simple ones."  
  
"And your point?"  
  
"How about we keep it the way it is," said Lavender. She appeared to be having a difficult time restraining herself; she obviously agreed with Hermione. But her connection to Harry, she felt, was too important to chance something like that.  
  
"Oh come on," Hermione tried. "I'm not asking to look like a prostitute; I'm just suggesting we take...say...one inch off the neck. How much can one inch do?"  
  
"Too much."  
  
"Lavender!" Hermione shrieked, and began to laugh. "You, of all people."  
  
"I know, I know," she said, screwing up her face with guilt. "It's just that—"  
  
"One inch," interrupted Hermione.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Well then what's the point of going to the dance if I'm going to be wearing...this?"  
  
Lavender winked. "Ron," she said. Lavender, ever the matchmaker, had been trying to set the two of them up for ages. She constantly acted as the go- between for them, delivering messages and planning dates or trips to Hogsmeade together.  
  
"Ahh...no, Lavender. I just don't...feel anything about Ron. He's my friend!"  
  
"Feel? What do you expect to 'feel'?" she raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I don't know. But what do you feel when you look at Harry? Think of it that way."  
  
Lavender grinned slyly. "It's when I don't look that it happens..." she said in a quiet voice.  
  
Hermione gaped at her. "Lavender!" she shouted and gave her a reprimanding look. Lavender laughed.  
  
"Well if this bothers you so much then don't come to the dance."  
  
"I have to go! Everyone goes, and nobody would leave me alone if I didn't."  
  
"Exactly," said Lavender slowly. "And for the next dance...we'll lower the neck." She smiled. "Just try this on like it is."  
  
Hermione went into the bathroom and changed into the yellow dress, examining herself in front of the mirror before she went back into the dormitory. She decided that it wasn't as bad as it had looked spread out on the bed. Now that it was on, she could see how it hugged her figure and went very well with the color of her skin and hair. She walked out.  
  
"It looks fine!" shouted Lavender.  
  
"It does," said Hermione, twirling around. "That was the stupidest argument we've ever had."  
  
"I agree."  
  
There was a knock on the door. "Are you ready? You've been in there for almost an hour!" shouted the anxious voice of Harry Potter. Lavender scuttled over and let him in, followed closely by Ron Weasley.  
  
"We're ready," she said firmly, looking at Hermione and then to Ron, smiling to herself. "Isn't Hermione's dress gorgeous, Ron?" she said.  
  
"Er...yeah." Ron shuffled his feet.  
  
"Come on, we've got to go," said Lavender hastily. "This is the first dance of the year!"

**.......................................**


	3. Act I, Scene IV

West Side Story

ACT I SCENE IV

The four students left the dormitory and walked down to the Great Hall, occasionally stopping to say hello to other students or compliment somebody on a dress or set of robes.

When they entered the Great Hall, the tables had been reduced to two long ones located on both sides of the room, and lighting was a dark bluish purple making it seem very late but still pretty. Nobody was dancing yet, and the students stood mainly along the walls chatting with friends. McGonagall stood up.

"Welcome to the first dance of the school year," she said briskly. "Headmaster Dumbledore is going to be away for the entirety of this week, although he sends his best wishes."

The students still stood around, moving slightly to the music of the Weird Sisters playing in the corner. There was a sharp divide between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors, and the other two houses acted as the only bridge between them.

McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, wand magically raising the volume of her voice like a muggle microphone, and the band stopped playing. "Alright," she said. "Since this is the first dance, the professors and I came up with something of a game. (The students groaned in unison.) Now, I need you all to form two circles, ladies on the inside and gentlemen on the outside. Then I'm going to place the _Entesincara_ charm on all of you, so that your faces will be hidden while you dance in the line of your circles. With me so far?" Everybody nodded. "Okay. So when the music stops and I remove the charm, I ask that whichever person you are lined up with be the person you dance with for the next song. Everybody ready?"

The students did not look very enthusiastic. The Slytherins stood scowling and laughing, while the Gryffindors looked exceedingly uncomfortable. Nobody moved until Malcolm, sneering, was pushed onto the dance floor by Blaise, who followed after him. They both turned and looked at the Gryffindors, challenging them to follow.

Harry looked at Lavender, and they walked out to meet the other two. Harry did not look nearly as confident as his date.

"There you go," shouted McGonagall. "Everybody!" she barked. The rest of the students reluctantly formed the rest of the circles. "Okay, I'm going to place the charm on you all now." With a quick flick of her wrist and a curve of her elbow, she muttered "_Entesincara Encantem!"_

There was a mutual gasp of shock as everyone's face was suddenly blurred out and covered with a blue mist similar to the color of the lighting in the room. The only facial feature not blurred out by the charm were the eyes. "Begin!" shouted McGonagall, and the band struck up a jovial promenade.

The students began to laugh as they circled round a few times until the music was cut off abruptly by McGonagall shouting "Stop!" She took out her wand and began to say the counter spell in order to give the students their appearances back.

"_Finite Incant_—"

"Hold up!" shouted an unrecognized voice.

"Yes?" said McGonagall, sounding skeptical.

"Why take off the spell _now_?" asked the voice. It was female. "Do you really think that we'll dance with the person once we know who they are?"

There was a murmur of assent from the rest of the students and McGonagall looked fairly surprised. "Fair point," she said. "I'll take off the spell _after_ the dance."

People started laughing again as they took their face-less partner and began to dance to the upbeat song pulsating throughout the room. Hermione was having an especially good time dancing with the boy she was partnered up with.

"Who _are_ you?" the boy asked after a time.

"That's not the point of the game, now, is it?" Hermione teased.

"I recognize your voice, but I can't figure out..."

Hermione laughed. "I've heard yours before too. Seventh year?"

"Yeah."

The two continued dancing for a while longer, chatting randomly, and straying farther and farther from the center of the Hall and over towards a darkened corner. The song had begun to slow down, and their bodies were gradually inching closer and closer.

"I hope I won't be disappointed when the spell is off, you know," Hermione said.

"So do I," said the boy. "But I don't think I could mind you _whoever_ you are...you're a good dancer."

Hermione laughed again, and the boy continued to speak. "I've been expecting something different to happen for a while now, and I think this is it."

"What do you mean?"

"I never would've danced with just anyone before," he said quietly. "But there's been something nagging at me for awhile, telling me that _something_ is about to come. Something good. So I accepted this as a chance for that _something_ to come."

"And you think this is it?"

"Yes," said the boy. They had practically stopped dancing by this point, and they were so close that their faces could have touched if they were visible. Both of them were looking into the others eyes, trying to name the person behind them. Hermione's were a deep brown, lined with faint traces of gold. The boy's were a shining gray so pure that no hint of any other color was visible. "I think it's you."

The music stopped. McGonagall had begun to talk again but neither of the two was listening.

"Thank you," said the boy, and he leaned in with closed eyes to kiss the face that was slowly beginning to appear in front of him. Hermione complied, and her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned forward too, standing on the tips of her feet to meet the height of the mystery boy.

"HERMIONE!" shouted the frantic voice of Harry Potter as he boomed over towards them. "WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK ARE YOU _DOING_?"

The two jerked apart, breaking the kiss and opening their eyes for the very first time to see who the other was. The boy was Draco Malfoy. He and Hermione stood, staring at each other in absolute shock. Draco silently mouthed "_Hermione_?" and he tilted his head to the side as if that would turn her into any other person. Hermione half expected him to spit on her or something, but he didn't. He continued to look at her, and then he smiled, and then he _laughed_.

"HERMIONE!" Harry shouted again, Lavender rushing over to keep him from attacking Draco. "Malfoy, get away from her, or I _swear_ I'll make you regret the day you were born!"

"Harry! Please, calm down!" shouted Lavender, reaching forward to put her hands on his shoulders.

"Get. Away. From Hermione. NOW!" He said, his face turning red this time. His knuckles were clenching and unclenching and he looked absolutely murderous.

"What's going on—" Ron said as he finally made his way over to the disturbance. He didn't need his question answered, for his eyes had found Hermione and Draco, who were still standing next to each other the way they had been during the dance. Draco was wearing a smirk and Hermione looked like she needed fresh air and a glass of water. Blaise had sauntered over and joined Draco's side.

"Didn't you notice that you were dancing with Malfoy?" Harry asked Hermione. "What happened to your head, couldn't you see his eyes or something?"

"I was trying to be active in the game and meet somebody new," said Hermione rationally.

"Get out of here Malfoy," snarled Ron randomly.

"Oh, shut up Weasley," said Draco. "Don't listen to them, Hermione." Hermione looked desperately between him and her Gryffindor friends in search for an answer.

"How dare you tell her that!" shouted Lavender.

"I can say whatever I want," said Draco.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" interrupted McGonagall. "What is this? We were having such a lovely time, don't go and ruin things!" The humor in the irony of her statement was lost because nobody listened to her except, possibly, for Hermione.

"You've gone daft, Hermione!" shouted Harry.

"Don't yell at her!" interrupted Ron.

"She's being stupid!" Harry continued irrationally. Lavender looked embarrassed, and tried to calm him down. "Ron, why don't you and Hermione go up to the common room."

"But—" Hermione began to say.

"_Please_, Hermione. Go!"

Ron looked blankly at Harry, fazed by his outburst. "Come on, Hermione. He's being weird..." he said, and reached over to her arm to guide her out of the room. Lavender watched this and smiled, sighing happily before she quickly masked her emotion and put a scowl back on her face to glare at Draco, who was still looking at Hermione. He seemed completely awestruck.

Harry finally tore away from Lavender, and she stumbled on her high heels for a second. He strode swiftly over to Draco, surely about to punch him, when Blaise jumped out in front of him.

"Get out of my way," he growled.

"No," said Blaise strongly. "I need to talk to you. I want to have a pre-duel conference between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors."

Harry looked skeptical at first, but his anger denied him complete control of the situation and he agreed.

"We'll meet you in a half an hour in the Room of Requirement?"

"Deal." Blaise strode off and left no breach between Harry and Draco. Their eyes locked and the hatred seemed to become so thick between them that neither could manage to go after the other.

"Aren't you coming Draco?" came the voice of Pansy Parkinson. She got no answer. Harry had strode off to find Hermione and Ron, leaving Draco alone in the Great Hall, surrounded by oblivious Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

****

**A/N**: Hmm...long chapter. I know that Draco was all wierd and OOC but...I'm trying to make him like Tony, who actually _starts out_ as a decent person. I needed Draco to fall in love and switch really fast to somebody like that...well...really fast. You can make up the reason why he's acting so accepting. Whatever...flame me...I'm the author and I can do what I want! W00t!


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